


keep it flourishing

by everbloom



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Internalized Homophobia, Minor Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Sexuality Crisis, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everbloom/pseuds/everbloom
Summary: For someone who's suppose to be the token straight friend, Mark's kissed quite a few boys.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 88
Kudos: 1029
Collections: Pro Debuter Fest Fic Recs





	keep it flourishing

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something like this for years. I did, then scrapped it and reworked it for johnmark. Honestly, I wanted this to be realistic with as little clichés as possible, but it would have been too angsty, and I am currently not capable of producing anything of that capacity, so I ended up with this dumpster fire.
> 
> The working title for this was "mark kisses several people but mostly johnny", so yeah the lumark and markten are purely platonic, we're here for the johnmark, babes!! The actual title is from Flourishing by Chungha.
> 
> This has been proofread to the best of my ability, I can't guarantee this is perfect, but I'm sick of looking at it, enjoy!

Despite what anyone thinks, Mark has actually kissed a boy before; except that boy was Yukhei, and they were both seventeen and severely inexperienced.

Mark doesn't think it really counts, and they've never talked about it once since it happened three years ago. Yukhei hasn't forgotten about it though, and all it takes is an impromptu conversation about first kisses with boys and some alcohol for him to run his mouth. It wasn't a big deal for Mark, but it was for Yukhei at the time. Except now Mark doesn't know why he suddenly cares so much.

"The first guy I kissed?" Yukhei blinks, eyes wide, almost panicked as if he wasn't expecting the conversation to land on him, despite the topic being passed around the table. Without a second thought he blurts, "Was Mark."

Yukhei, Mark has come to learn, has absolutely no filter when he gets a few beers in him, it's worse with hard liquor, but thankfully there isn't a shot of tequila in sight. Sober Yukhei is already a truthful guy, it's almost admirable how Yukhei can sugar coat even the roughest of truths. Drunk Yukhei, however, is a menace. He's too brutally honest for his own good, and forgiveness rarely comes in exchange for his bluntness.

Even under the dim lighting of the restaurant, Mark feels all eyes at the table land on him, silently asking for some sort of comment or anything to satisfy the hundreds of silent questions he can almost hear swimming through everyone's head. He stays silent out of sheer panic, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

Yukhei figured out he was bisexual not too long after that, it was a gradual epiphany that just needed a catalyst, and Mark felt honoured to be apart of Yukhei's Big Bisexual Awakening.

He's happy for his best friend, proud that Yukhei had managed to overcome such an identity crisis, but at the same time he had felt resentful in a way. That was when he realized that Yukhei's Big Bisexual Awakening ended up being a catalyst to his own sexuality crisis (lower case because he doesn't think it warrants an actual title). It's not a big deal, he refuses to call it anything. He's comfortable with being straight, he likes girls, and he doesn't see why he needs to dwell on any further anxiety. Often, that anxiety sticks around whether he likes it or not, tugging at the edges of his thoughts.

The booth they're all shoved into suddenly feels so much more suffocating. He feels hot under the collar, as if the heat has been cranked up to sweltering and the walls are threatening to collapse onto him. It doesn't help that he's wedged between Johnny and Doyoung either, spatially trapped, and pinned down by curious gazes.

He avoids eye contact with everyone at the table, instead he directs his glare towards Yukhei who is smiling at him sheepishly, now fully acknowledging what he had blurted out. Mark thinks he can see Ten and Yuta's stunned expressions in his peripheral, but he drowns out the attention by downing the rest of his pint, mentally noting that the promise of chicken and beer as a post-midterm celebration isn't worth suffering through Yukhei's big mouthed tendencies.

As quickly as attention falls on him, it's swept away by Johnny who starts talking about the first guy he kissed. He should feel relieved, but that would be an overstatement, there's still something stirring in his unconscious that he can’t quite shake it off. 

He half-mindedly listens to his friends chatter for the next hour or so while the plates of chicken are devoured and beer consumed. The mix of exam stress and alcohol starts weighing on him, and whoever scheduled a midterm on a Sunday deserves a special place in hell. He's been up since six studying, his exam was later in the afternoon, and he blames his half-minded stupor on that, and not on the fact that he's a bit of a lightweight. He's starting to feel cozy though. Ten had once described him as a cuddly drunk which Mark had vehemently denied, but according to the Mark Lee Drunkenness scale, he thinks he's pleasantly buzzed judging by how comfortable Johnny's shoulder seems to have become.

"You okay, buddy?" Johnny quietly asks, "Tired?"

"Mmhmm," Mark nods, rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of Johnny's t-shirt. It feels nice, he can smell the faintest hint of Johnny's cologne still clinging to his skin. He almost believes he's home right now if he wasn't for how noisy it is. He could fall asleep if he wanted to, but the sound of Johnny's voice anchors him from drifting off.

"You wanna go home?" 

"Kinda," he admits quietly, eyes falling shut. Despite the dim lighting, the lights are starting to feel too bright, and his head throbs from fatigue. It's not too late right now, but he has a morning class tomorrow and he'd rather not stay long enough for a hangover to manifest.

"I’ll go with you," Johnny says patting his thigh.

"You don’t have to." 

"It’s fine. I have class to teach in the morning."

They've been roommates for a year now, friends for even longer. They wouldn't be living together if they didn't share a mutual despise towards the dorms, but Mark isn't sure why Johnny even agreed to live with him. The graduate dorms aren't awful, in fact, the building was recently renovated a few years ago, and any sane undergrad staying on campus would kill for a single room, yet alone a studio room reserved for grad students in West Hall.

It’s about a forty minute commute to get to campus. He doesn’t mind it though. He's able to catch up with some reading on the bus, rent is cheaper at their place, and he even has his own room but sometimes he still misses the convenience of the dorms and the extra hour of sleep he's able to get. The sacrifices are worth it though, sometimes he gets a ride from Johnny when their schedules aligned and that's good enough for him.

If Mark has learned anything within the last year, Johnny is pleasant company, and the best roommate Mark has ever had — he’s only had one other roommate, but as much as Mark loves Donghyuck, he's a nocturnal menace who takes naps at odd hours of the day, talks too loudly playing League of Legends and goes to bed when the sun rises. He’s lost sleep because of Donghyuck, but ever since moving in with Johnny, he’s been able to sleep a decent amount any full-time college student can allot in their schedule. 

He’s never really been someone who overtly befriends people easily. Johnny was an unlikely friend that Mark wouldn't have crossed paths with him if Yukhei wasn't terrifyingly good at befriending everyone he meets. It doesn't even matter if Johnny is a grad student in a completely different department than either of them, if Yukhei feels exceptionally sociable that day, he'll befriend those around him, and that's what happened.

Mark thinks they're close now. Close enough now that he doesn't have to hesitate to tell Johnny if the latter is doing something that bothers him without feeling overly anxious or guilty about voicing his complaints. They're close enough now that Johnny has cried about his master's thesis in front of Mark on several occasions without the same amount of shame and embarrassment if he were to do it in front of anyone else. 

They're close enough now that they're both equally open and vulnerable around each other when they need to be. 

Their apartment is barely a ten minute walk away from the restaurant. The autumn chill is almost unbearable and he's a little underdressed for the weather. Johnny had nagged him about his hoodie earlier in the day, he thought it would be fine, but it turns out the weatherman is a dirty liar, and he hates the _I told you so_ look on the other man's face as Mark shivers with every passing breeze.

Eventually, Johnny had taken pity on him with an arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him close until they're walking in step. It slows down their pace, but he's content with the stroll, the cold is sobering, and the silence is a nice change from the bustling restaurant.

"Thanks, by the way," he mutters when they're halfway home. Neither of them had spoken a word since leaving the restaurant.

"For what?" Johnny startles. 

"For swerving the conversation earlier."

"Nah dude, I just wanted to talk about the first guy I kissed," Johnny says dismissively.

"I’m serious, thank you," he hesitates, "I just… wasn’t ready to have that conversation with everyone."

"Pretty sure kissing one of your best bros is normal, even if you are straight," Johnny replies. It's not meant to irk him, but it hits a nerve anyway.

"But I'm not. I think?" he fumbles, "I— I don’t know."

Johnny falls unnervingly silent, and it's not until they've made it down the block before he finally speaks again, "You don't have to know."

"But I want to know though," he says listlessly.

"You don’t have to know right away." Despite how close Johnny is, he sounds so distant, yet he's still so very present and warm against him. "Trust me, it takes time to figure things out and you're not gonna know by kissing one guy."

"Then kiss me," he blurts. He doesn't know why he says it, he's always been told that he's a lot more bold when he's drunk, and this is one of the instances that he can see it.

"Come again?" 

"You said one person wouldn't be enough, right? Kiss me, make it two," he elaborates.

Johnny stops walking, the arm around Mark's shoulders slips off, and he suddenly feels so much colder. The jingle of keys is the only thing that tells him that they've already made it back to their apartment, he hadn't even noticed.

"No." The sound of the door unlocking punctuates the word, and Johnny ushers him into the building.

"What? Why not?" Mark asks, as Johnny gently nudges him into the elevator when it opens. "Whatever happened to normalizing kissing your best bros?"

"It’s not about that," he still sounds so distant. "Wait, I'm one of your best bros?"

"Don't try to change the subject. What is it about then?" Johnny still doesn't look at him, gaze directed towards the elevator doors as the lift takes them to the fifth floor.

"Can we talk about this later?" his voice drops into a whisper as they step into the hallway. "When you're not drunk."

"’m not drunk," he mutters.

"You were clinging to me throughout the entire night." Johnny knows how to read him. He knows that clingy Mark equals inebriated Mark, and inebriated Mark does things that sober Mark often regrets, but Mark thinks this isn't something sober Mark would regret.

"Okay, that's fair, but it's just a kiss," Mark reasons. Their apartment is dark, and he almost trips over his own shoes trying to get them off. Maybe he is a little more drunk than he originally thought he was, he's still not going to admit it though.

"Fine." 

Suddenly, there's cold fingers gently cupping his face and a light press against his forehead. He doesn't even register the gentle kiss until he hears Johnny calling out, "Good night, Mark." 

Johnny's bedroom door shuts, leaving Mark with the ghost of Johnny's touch prickling his skin and a thousand thoughts drowning him in the silence of their apartment.

"I've been meaning to ask," Mark says on Thursday morning as he waits for his coffee to brew, "how'd you know you were bi?"

Johnny looks caught off guard, standing in the middle of their kitchen with a mouth full of toast and jam. Mark could almost see the words churning in Johnny's head as he chews slowly. Perhaps springing such a loaded question on his roommate at seven in the morning isn't ideal, neither of them are fully awake, but Mark hasn't been able to catch more than a few moments of Johnny's time all week, and the light anxious tug inside him has been festering for more than half the week. It's beginning to get to him.

Johnny has been busy since the school year started, either spending most hours of the day on campus working on his thesis or teaching a class, and when he actually is at home, he's buried in a stack of midterms or assignments that need grading. His work ethic is astonishingly strict and disciplined, so Mark leaves him alone when the other man holes himself up in his room. Johnny treats him with the same amount of privacy, it's how they survived being roommates for as long as they have without too many problems arising. Mark couldn't have asked for anyone better.

"Well, I grew up in America, and my parents raised me to be bilingual," he says after a moment. 

"I meant bisexual," Mark rolls his eyes.

"I know, I'm just teasing," Johnny laughs, "I kinda always knew?"

"Really?"

"Well, I was kinda obsessed with Star Trek when I was younger and I thought Chris Pine was hot," Johnny shrugs. He’s never seen Star Trek so he has no idea which Hollywood Chris Johnny is talking about, it probably doesn't matter. "I also had a crush on one of my friends, and I fooled around with some guys in high school," Johnny elaborates.

"So what you're saying is that I have to sleep with some guys and just hope I'll figure things out?"

"No, what I'm saying is that's what I did."

"Okay, then what should I do then?" He cocks his head. 

"Hell would I know, I only know from my own experience. Go ask Yukhei or something." 

"Pretty sure he did the same thing." Mark is able to recall a few brief accounts from Yukhei, but he had been spared most of the details upon his own request. Maybe he shouldn't have tuned of Yukhei's anecdotes about his Big Bisexual Awakening adventures, it could be helpful for him right now.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, along with heaps of milk and sugar, and watches it as the contents swirl as he churns over the idea of _messing around with some guys_ in his head. He doesn't really do one night stands, so the idea of hooking up with some random guy is already out of the question, and he thinks it’s too bold of a step to look for someone to potentially date when he’s still too uncertain about everything. Maybe if it was someone he knows—

"What's on your mind?" Johnny asks, shaking him from his thoughts. He's staring at Mark curiously, head tilted and questioning.

"I— I think I have an idea?" he says more confidently than he feels.

"And that would be?" Johnny replies, popping the last bite of toast into his mouth. Mark hesitates, because unlike drunk Mark, sober Mark is too cautious about everything. 

"You know how you still technically owe me a kiss?" he says timidly. 

"Is that how you want to start?" Johnny asks incredulously.

"I've already kissed one guy," _three years ago_ , he wants to add, "it's not a big deal, you're not my first."

"Ouch," Johnny feigns, "that's not the way to woo a guy."

"I mean, unless you want to be my first for other things?" He doesn't know what he's asking for, but it's already in the air and Johnny now looks impassive. 

"Other things," Johnny echoes.

"I— I don't know, dude," he laughs suddenly feeling hot under the collar. "I just thought you could maybe… help?"

"Like… sexually?" Mark nods when a lump starts forming in his throat, feeling like his own voice would betray him.

Johnny's expression remains unreadable, it's not quite neutral, there’s a hint of something akin to confusion in his eyes. "Mark, I can't be your— fuck, I hate using this word for this but I can't be your experiment."

"But isn't that what you did?" He looks at Johnny hopefully, and when the other man doesn't respond, he continues, "I'd rather it be you than some rando."

"Let's say theoretically, I said yes," Johnny says after a moment. He steps closer, eyes searching his, almost pleading for Mark to take everything he’s said back. Mark holds his ground though, leveling him with a stern stare. "Are you sure you'd be okay with this? That you wouldn't freak out if I kissed you?"

"I won't," he promises. Johnny levels him with a look, one that Mark has never seen on his face before, it's not quite anger but it's intense, there's something aversive flickering in his eyes, something that makes him want to shrink into himself, run away, even hide. Instead, he steps back until his back hits the counter behind him.

But Johnny continues to move closer, until he's trapping Mark with both arms caging him against the counter, he's merely a breadth away, and Mark almost goes cross eyed with how close he is. His heartbeat thumps hard in his chest, and the deafening silence between them magnifies just how loud he hears it, he thinks Johnny could probably hear it too with how close he is.

The silence drags on and Mark isn't prepared for any of the words that come out of Johnny's mouth, "So you're okay with another guy touching you?"

His throat goes dry, and he barely manages out a, "Yes."

"And the thought of touching another guy's dick doesn't scare you?" And just as Mark had dropped such a loaded question, Johnny continues without giving him time to respond, voice dropping the lowest Mark has ever heard, "That you're not scared of the thought of having sex with another man? That you'd be okay with me between your legs sucking you off? Touching you? Fucking you?"

"I… Um..." he gulps, fumbling for words but all he's able to do is gape at him, eyes wide, and any words on his tongue becomes dead weight, rendering him speechless. It's the last thing he expects to hear from his roommate at seven in the morning on a Thursday. He's barely able to comprehend anything past the thought of Johnny between his legs.

Johnny finally steps backwards, the space between them increases. Mark feels a little less pinned down, and he lets go of a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"You should think about it first," Johnny warns, _you'll only regret it_ , Mark thinks he hears.

Then he's gone, leaving Mark alone again with his thoughts flying, and his heart hammering in his chest.

Mark does think about it, it's all he could think about all day. He mulls over Johnny's words over and over again, until he realizes class is over, and he's the only person left in the lecture hall. He leaves with his empty notebook shamefully tucked back into his backpack, a jumbled up head, and barely any recollection of what today's lecture was about.

Mark has had his fair share of untimely boners in inappropriate places, but this isn't one of them. It's not that he's hard, maybe he's sporting a half-chub, but he could barely call it that. He refuses to it call it that, because that means owning up to the fact that he spent two hours thinking — _fantasizing_ — about his roommate. It gives him more than one thing to be ashamed about, and at this point he’s not too concerned about missed lecture notes. 

The rest of his day goes by a little more smoothly though. He meets up with Yukhei at their usual spot in the library in the afternoon, but the baffled look on Yukhei sends everything spiraling down again. 

"Sorry, what?" 

"I said, can I borrow your notes?" Mark repeats.

"Yeah, sure," Yukhei says. He flips to today's lecture and slides the notebook across the table. "You good, man?"

"I'm great," Mark replies absentmindedly, frowning when he sees the messy scrawl on the page.

"You sure? You never zone out in class. You didn't even ask any of your arbitrary questions today." Yukhei reaches across the table, pressing one hand to his forehead and the other to his own.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark frowns, swatting the hand away but Yukhei is quick to withdraw his hand before Mark makes contact. 

"Nothing, I just haven't seen you so quiet in class before, it's concerning."

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"You always have a lot on your mind and that's never affected your attentiveness before," Yukhei comments as he flips through his textbook to find the page he had dog-eared. Mark winces at the sight of the folded corner as Yukhei tries to smooth it out, but the crease doesn't seem to want to give. Mark somehow finds that relatable. "What's wrong?"

"I think I may have somehow pissed off Johnny," he explains. Johnny didn't seem angry, annoyed, maybe, but he’s never seen Johnny so unreadable before, so he's not really sure. 

"Damn dude, it takes a lot to piss him off, what the hell did you do?" Yukhei speaks from experience. He's never truly pissed off Johnny, but Mark has seen the older man curse Yukhei out during late night sessions of Overwatch, and that's the closest either of them have seen Johnny losing his cool.

"I don't know? I asked him how he figured out he was bi, and he explained that he fooled around with some guys in high school, and I'm—" he stops mid-sentence absolutely mortified by how much he's telling Yukhei. He's never told Yukhei about his possible sexuality crisis (or whatever this is), but the way Yukhei is staring at him curiously, he whispers more out of uncertainty than secrecy, "I'm just trying to figure some things out right now and I asked him for help."

"Things?" Yukhei presses, looking more confused than he already was.

"Yeah, things, um...." Mark adjusts his glasses, averting his gaze. His face suddenly feels hot, and he's drowning in anxiety, "I don't think I'm straight."

"Okay," Yukhei says after a moment, lips pressed firmly in a tight line. Mark isn't sure what to make of it.

"Okay?" 

"Okay," Yukhei repeats.

"Is that all you have to say? You're not surprised?" he asks. Knowing Yukhei and his dramatic tendencies, Mark was expecting a more boisterous reaction, but Yukhei is calm, uncharacteristically so. At least it crushes the nerves bubbling in him and keeps him calm too.

"I am. I mean, normally people figure out their sexuality before coming out to someone, so I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to say in this scenario. But," his expression softens, turning a little wistful, "it's a hard thing to admit, it's even harder to say out loud, especially when you're still unsure, and even though I'm one of your friends, you didn't have to tell me. Thanks for trusting me."

Of all the places to have a heart to heart conversation, the university library ranks low on his list but that doesn't stop the load of emotions from overwhelming him.

"You trusted me when you were going through the same thing, I think you deserve to at least know," Mark tells him. "I've never said anything until now because I've been burying it away for years, and it never came up until the other day."

"Shit, I'm sorry about that," Yukhei apologizes and he looks visibly regretful, like he's put Mark in a position he never wanted to be in. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's fine, you didn't know." Mark throws him a small smile, and that seems to put Yukhei at ease. "I mean, you kinda ruined my image as the token straight friend though."

This makes Yukhei laugh, "Fuck, you're right. We might have to find a new token straight friend."

"Replacing me so soon, huh," Mark pouts.

"Never! You're our OG straight boy!" he huffs.

"Hardly," Mark rolls his eyes. He's only ever had two girlfriends, and his last relationship was well over a year ago. He's never been one for one night stands, and he doesn't blatantly flirt with girls either. At most, he's the bare minimum of a straight boy, but he's their friend group's straight boy.

"Whatever, man. You're still my best friend and I can't just replace you," he says with the same sincerity. "You know that whatever happens, I'll be there for you."

"Yeah, thanks." For the first time all day, he feels so much lighter, whatever that has been weighing him down desists, but it still remains an insistent presence. There's still the whole thing with Johnny, but it's easier to push that issue aside, focus on his tasks without once thinking about Johnny.

It doesn't last long though. Once he finishes copying Yukhei's notes and hands the notebook back to the other man, Yukhei stares at him pensively.

"You gonna talk to him?" Yukhei questions.

"Eventually."

"I'm sure it's nothing big," Yukhei reassures him. "Hey! You wanna grab boba later? My treat."

It's meant to be comforting, he's always down for bubble tea, but the thought of getting an oreo smoothie does nothing to dissipate the worry bubbling in his gut.

Johnny’s home all day on Saturday, but it takes Mark all day to convince himself to finally talk to him. Which means he's had another day and a half to think. Overthink. Because that's what he does best, but he tries to busy himself with whatever assignments he has. He's even picked up his guitar for the first time in weeks and it distracts him from his thoughts long enough until he runs out of songs to play, and his fingers become sore.

Johnny's bedroom door is wide open, and normally he doesn't have to knock but he feels like he's intruding given the circumstances. "Hey, can we talk?"

From where he's standing, Johnny has his back towards him. The other man doesn't turn around, but the pen in his hand stops twirling so he takes it as a sign to continue, "Sorry if I had overstepped the other day. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be okay with it just because you've done some—"

"Stop," Johnny cuts him off.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, stop apologizing," Johnny interjects, spinning in his chair, and Mark expects to see anger, but instead he looks apologetic. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, I'm the one who should apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But—" he shuts his mouth when Johnny holds a hand up, suddenly wary of making things worse.

"No, listen. Sit down." Johnny gestures to his bed and Mark does what he's told, rigidly sitting on the edge closest to Johnny.

"I know what you're going through, and it's already hard enough, I didn't need to make things worse. I’m sorry." His expression softens, "I didn't make you uncomfortable did I?"

"I don't think so? I've just never seen that side of you before and it just surprised me." He rubs his hands against his joggers, suddenly feeling sweaty by how close Johnny is now. There's still some distance between them, at least a good five feet, and that's enough to encourage him to continue, "I've thought about what you said, it's all I could think about, and I'm not gonna lie, I was confused but I don't think I hate the idea of any of it." 

"Oh." Johnny blinks at him surprised. "I said all that to scare you."

"I was scared, more about our friendship than anything actually," Mark admits. Johnny doesn't need to know about the half-chub he got in class the other day thinking of him. Or the morning wood he woke up with today after having a particularly vivid dream about the other man. The guilt that followed was already enough, he doesn't need further scrutinizing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that. Do you forgive me?" Johnny looks visibly upset and it hurts him that Johnny thinks he's seriously damaged their relationship in any way. 

He smiles reassuringly at him, "Yeah, let's— let's just forget about it. I'll figure this out on my own eventually," he promises. It's a lie. He'll just push it aside and ignore it like he had been doing for years. It's worked up until now, Johnny doesn't need to know that.

"What a shame, I was going to offer to help." Johnny smiles weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You sure you're not gonna freak out about it?" he jokes, but Johnny doesn't laugh.

"Not funny, dude," Johnny monotonously replies, but there's a lilt of amusement in his eyes.

"It's a little funny."

"Nope, I'm retracting my offer." Johnny swivels his chair towards his desk once again.

"Wait no," Mark pouts, hoping Johnny picks it up in the tone of his voice, surprisingly, it works. 

Johnny sighs and turns around to face him again, "Why'd you even ask me in the first place?" 

"Honestly, I'm not sure." He really hadn't thought about it. Johnny was right there, and there's only a handful of people he could have asked—

"You could have asked Yukhei." 

"Ten," Mark simply responds and it's enough for Johnny to understand. Yukhei has been disgustingly head over heels over Ten for months now, and as fun as it's been to tease Yukhei about it, it's becoming painful to watch, but he doesn't want to interfere too much either.

"And what makes you think I'm not the same?" Johnny blinks at him. 

"Are you?" he warily asks.

"No." 

"Okay, good, let's do this," he nods. Except he doesn't know what _this_ actually is.

Johnny chuckles, "I guess I do owe you a kiss."

"Oh. Like— like right now?" he squeaks. "I mean, don't feel like you owe me anything, I know I've been a bit pushy about it—"

"Do you want to do this or not?" He's starting to sound annoyed, but it's not the same annoyance from a few days ago, this time, there's a lilt of playfulness.

"Yeah." Mark nods, internally willing the nerves away. It's just a kiss, he's kissed plenty of girls, and he's also kissed Yukhei, he shouldn't be nervous, kissing Johnny shouldn't be any different than kissing anyone else.

Johnny is hesitant though, and it makes Mark all the more nervous, "A few things though."

"What is it?"

"First, regardless of what happens, promise me that things won't get weird between us," Johnny pins him with a stern expression, but Mark doesn't question it. There's nothing that will be weird between them, at least not more than it has been the last few days. He's hopeful, he wants to go into this with an optimistic attitude, figure this all out, and everything will be fine. 

"It won't," he assures, "I promise."

"And second of all, if we want to sleep with other people, we can."

"Okay, yeah that's fine with me," Mark agrees.

"Good." Johnny rolls himself forward in his chair, and in any other instance, Mark would be too amused by the sight of Johnny rolling around his room in his desk chair, but the nerves bundling in his stomach are enough to distract him from his usual thought process.

Johnny comes as close as he possibly could, knees knocking against his own, and sitting forward in his seat and into Mark's space just as he did the other day, but this time Mark isn't taken off guard. He knows exactly what Johnny is about to do, however, the gentle hand curling around his nape is unexpected but not unwelcome. It grounds him from the fleeting nervousness buzzing inside him.

It's a tentative kiss, unsure and a little hesitant. Mark freezes stock still before willing himself to sink into it. _It's just a kiss_ , he tells himself. Johnny's lips are surprisingly soft, and they're as plush as they look, this is nice, he could do this again without any hesitation. He musters up a little bravery, his tongue cautiously catches the seam of Johnny's mouth, and the other man only parts his mouth enough to teasingly brush against Mark's tongue with his own before pulling away.

"Eager, aren't you?" Johnny smirks, eyes half-lidded. Mark thinks he looks good, but he isn't too sure what to do with that information.

"That was a week late, I should charge interest," Mark tries to say cooly, but his heart skitters and thumps hard in his chest.

"I take it you're cool with this." Johnny studies him for a second. He's still so close that Mark's face heats up from all the attention.

"I told you I wasn't going to freak," he responds, hoping Johnny doesn't catch the slight flush colouring his cheeks. "I… I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Then you'd be okay if I…" Johnny doesn't finish his sentence, and Mark is already nodding. 

It's too tender to be a kiss between friends, but he lets out a surprised hum when it turns more open mouthed and a little less cautious. Kissing, Mark thinks, is simple and he thinks he knows how to do it decently, but kissing Johnny feels almost unfamiliar. He's kissed girls like this, it's far from shy, but he's never been as willing and pliant to have someone basically guide him. It's like being kissed for the first time all over again, he feels a little clumsy, and he hopes it doesn't show.

His moans are soft and quiet, almost shy, but he cuts that shyness short because he craves for Johnny to kiss him until he's breathless and chasing for more, and the small whine that escapes his throat when Johnny pulls away should be embarrassing.

"Yep, totally cool with this," Johnny comments, his lips are a little kiss swollen and red, and Mark can't help but stare at them in a daze as Johnny speaks.

"Stop doubting me, you're not the first guy I've kissed, remember?" he doesn't mention that his kiss with Yukhei was brief and awkward, and he could hardly even call it a kiss.

"I could be for other things," he playfully suggests, and if Mark does blush this time, Johnny doesn't comment on it.

"Oh." There's a sudden twist in his gut. "Right— right now?"

"How about we take this one step at a time?" Johnny pats his cheek affectionately. The touch feels hot against his already flushed skin, and all he's able to do is nod dumbly.

"Yeah no, for sure," he musters.

Mark finds out for himself, after being gently coerced into watching Star Trek for the first time by Johnny, that Chris Pine is in fact a pretty good looking guy. Maybe not in the same way Johnny would describe him — _hot_ — but Mark doesn't need to be attracted to men to see that Chris Pine is classically good looking. It could be that his character has a certain charm to him, from his wit to his overall intelligence, it's easy to find all of that attractive, and just as easy to project onto the actor as well.

"Dude, you might be right," Mark says as the credits start rolling.

"About?"

"Chris Pine? Kinda a handsome dude," he admits. "I wouldn't say he's hot, though."

"Kinda agree with you there," Johnny sighs, "good looking, but he's not really my type anymore."

"You have a type?" he raises a brow.

"Not really? I'm not sure what it is but..." he starts, sliding his gaze towards him, a smirk tugs at his lips, "you seem to fit it." he adds an exaggerated wink for effect.

"That's not funny, dude," he responds flustered, tossing the throw pillow he's been hugging throughout the movie across the couch, it lands on Johnny's lap as the other man cackles.

"You're just too easy to tease," Johnny laughs again, "it's cute, I could kiss you."

"Then kiss me," he challenges. 

They haven't kissed since the first time. He doesn't want to seem too eager, that's not the type of person he is, but he just wants some sort of closure after pushing any thoughts of his sexuality to the side for the last several years. He's been passive about all of this, but he's willing to move things forward if the opportunity is right in front of him.

Johnny is right in front of him.

Mark could get used to kissing Johnny. He's able to relax into it so much easier this time, none of his previous worries matter right now. His heart still beats rabbit quick, the angle is a little awkward, but Johnny's mouth is encouraging and keeps him wanting more.

He doesn't know how he ends up in Johnny's lap, fingers twisting in his shirt as Johnny rests a cautious hand on his hip, careful of his touch. His hand is grounding, keeps whatever anxiety Mark has about all this is kept at bay, there's something about being with Johnny that just calms his nerves.

He takes Johnny's wrists, placing both of the other man's hands on either side of his hips, "You can touch me."

"You sure?" Johnny hesitantly looks at him, his fingers twitch, but Mark continues to hold his hands on his hips insistently.

"Absolutely. It's not like you've never touched me before." They aren't shy with how physical they are but they are a lot more subdued compared to some of their other friends. They keep their touches mundane, overtly usual between friends — shoulders bumping when they walk side by side, reassuring back pats when the other is upset, an arm around a shoulder when appropriate.

It's never been uncomfortable or awkward, hasn't been since they first met when any physical contact would have been strange. Mark has grown used to it, and he thinks it must have something to do with practically living in each others' space for the last year or so.

"This is different." Johnny looks down at where his hands are on Mark's hips. This _is_ different.

He strikes Johnny with a determined look, "If I'm saying it's fine, then it's fine. You have my permission, go fucking wild."

"Be careful what you wish for," he warns, lightly squeezing his fingers. He gauges Mark's reaction, and when Mark doesn't protest, his hands slide up to his waist and suddenly this feels so much more intimate, he feels like he’s being held closer despite the physical distance between them hasn’t changed. This is okay, he doesn't mind, but his breath still catches in his throat.

"I don't want to scare you off or anything. It would really suck to have to find a new roommate."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mark says resting his hands on Johnny's shoulders for emphasis. He's not going to run away just because he doesn't like something. They're adults, and they talk things through whenever possible, it's how they've survived living with each other, and it's how their relationship was slowly built. "If I don't like something, I'll tell you."

"Good. That's what I want to hear."

"Can we… can we get back to kissing?" Mark asks, trying to stave whatever shyness is evident in his voice. All he gets is Johnny smiling at him adoringly and warm, and his ears start burning from all the attention Johnny is giving him. "Wh— what?" Mark stammers.

"Nothing. I just think it's cute that you're asking, that's all."

"Stop that."

"What? Calling you cute?" Johnny questions.

"Yes, stop it!" he hisses.

As promised, things don't get weird between them, things just get _different_.

He can't quite place what it is, it doesn't bother him but they're different in front of their friends than when they are alone at home. Of course, it's different, he's kept this whole ordeal amongst himself and Johnny. Yukhei only knows half the details, and he hasn't talked to him about it since before this whole thing with Johnny started.

A few stray kisses sneak their way into their regular routine, it becomes a normal habit that Mark thought would be too intimate and personal at first, but he gets used to the idea of kissing a guy.

He gets used to kissing Johnny.

The annoying thing about birthdays as an adult is that it's impossible to round everyone up on one day to celebrate.

What's equally as annoying is being friends with Yuta who thinks party planning is a sport. It’s admirable how enthusiastic Yuta gets about birthdays, his own especially, much to his housemates' chagrin. Doyoung seems to let it slide because it is Yuta's birthday, and he's fine as long as the house doesn't get thrown into chaos and no one goes into his room. Jaehyun doesn't seem to care all too much but he still agrees with Doyoung about keeping the state of their house intact, other than that he's just happy to see everyone for the first time in what feels like months.

By whatever will of the gods or Yuta's sheer tenacity, Yuta manages to figure out a day that works with everyone. It edges too close to the due date of one of Mark's papers, and he even debated whether or not he could make it.

Yukhei likes to think that he was the one responsible for convincing him, whining about how _Ten will be there, please don't leave me alone_. In actuality, Mark was more convinced by Johnny bribing him away from his laptop with the prospect of free booze and decent food.

It's a small gathering amongst close friends, because apparently Yuta has wisened up after graduating from university, and big college house parties are apparently in the past for him. He still has a game of beer pong set up in the kitchen, and Mark spends more time than he would like to admit watching several games between Yuta and Johnny.

Somehow, he eventually gets roped into playing a rather aggressive game of Halli Galli with Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Ten. Jaehyun is exceptionally competitive when he's drunk, Doyoung gets competitive when Jaehyun is involved, and knowing Ten, he just wants a front row seat to the ensuing chaos. Yukhei is behind him watching as the game unfolds, but Mark doesn't need to look at him to know that Yukhei is watching Ten the entire time.

Doyoung and Jaehyun eventually lose all their cards, and Mark finds it hilarious that the two most competitive players are the first ones to be eliminated. He doesn't know how he's still even in the game when he's only put in half the effort he usually does _and_ he's a little tipsy, but now that he's made it this far, he's determined to win. Ten seems to think the same and in the next round, the bell in the centre gets sent sliding across the table when Mark accidentally knocks it in an attempt to hit it. They both end up diving for it, he gets to it first, but Ten’s hand lands painfully on top of his, one of his fingers jabbing into his own.

"Ow, fuck!" Mark winces. Immediately, Ten has his hand cradled in his own hands. Mark swears he hears a small noise distressed from Yukhei.

"Are you okay?" Ten gasps. 

"I'm fine— oh my god, do you even cut your fucking nails," he winces when he sees a small cut where Ten’s finger had dug into his hand. It's bleeding enough that it warrants a bandaid.

"Oh, hun, I do, just not as often when I'm single," Ten winks, and the squeak behind him tells him it's more directed towards Yukhei than it is towards him. Mark snorts, of course he would say something like that.

"You're gross. I'm getting a bandaid," he tells Ten, then he turns to Yukhei and places the stack of cards into the other man's hands and Yukhei stares at him with panic written all over his face. Mark grins, "you're subbing in for me."

"Wait, no I'm not—" Yukhei starts but Mark doesn't catch the rest of his sentence as he speeds down the hall and towards the washroom.

With Yukhei playing, he knows he'll lose, especially against Ten, but Mark doesn't really care, he just hopes it's enough of a push that Yukhei needs to be able to say more than five words to Ten when they're alone.

"Hey, you okay? I heard you yell, what happened?" Johnny pops his head into the washroom just as Mark runs his hand under the faucet, while his other hand rummages through the box of bandaids in the medicine cabinet. 

"I'm fine, Ten just scratched me playing Halli Galli," he hums triumphantly when he manages to fish out a bandage without knocking everything in the cabinet over.

"Yeah, I’ve learned that the hard way the last time I played Slapjack with him," Johnny laments, watching as Mark struggles to unwrap the plaster. "You need help with that?"

"Yeah, thanks dude." 

"How's that? Not too tight?" Johnny asks, wrapping the bandage perfectly around his finger.

"It's fine. Fuck, why does it hurt as much as it does though," he winces.

"Do you need me to kiss it better?" Johnny smiles. It's too charming for something that's supposed to be sarcastic, but then he's bringing up Mark's hand to press a delicate kiss against the injured finger. It's a simple action, yet Mark doesn't know why heat spreads across his cheeks. The alcohol must be hitting him now.

"I'd rather you kiss me elsewhere," he says, trying to fuel the banter, but some part of him really wants Johnny to kiss him. He expects some teasing, that's how things usually go before they end up making out, but instead Johnny kisses him, hands caressing his neck and tilting his head back.

Today is different, the alcohol, it must be the alcohol, Mark muses.

All shyness is gone now, and he kisses Johnny with equal fervour. Their height difference is enough that Mark has to stretch slightly to accommodate for it, he's not used to kissing someone taller than him, and it's taken time to get used to having to lean up to kiss Johnny.

He places his hands on Johnny's hips, pulling the other man closer as he backs himself up against the bathroom counter. There's a damp spot on the counter that seeps into his t-shirt, but he'd rather ignore it in favour of kissing Johnny, reveling in the way the older's tongue runs along his mouth.

Mark doesn't notice it, the eyes on him until he hears someone clearing their throat, and suddenly they're both jerking away from each other. Ten is standing by the door staring at them pensively.

"Get out," Ten says rather calmly. There's no bite, no irritation, his expression seems strangely neutral. "I gotta use the bathroom."

If he was sober, he would be more mortified by the fact Ten walked in on them. He's not, and all he wants to do is make out with Johnny in the privacy of their apartment, and forget that ever happened. So that's how he eventually ends up on their couch with Johnny under him, kissing him slow and deep and maybe a little clumsily. He can't tell, he's still a little drunk but has since sobered up a bit on the way back to their apartment.

The couch became such a common spot for them now. It was there when they moved in, and Mark vividly remembers claiming he's never going to sit on it. It's old, the leather is peeling, some of the stitches are busted, and there are spots in the cushions that are lumpier than the rest. It's not comfortable by any means, and he's accidentally taken naps on it and has woken up feeling exceptionally sore, but it does its job as a seat, and there's no use buying a new one.

"Mark."

"Hmph?"

"Is that your boner?"

"Leave it," he slurs.

"I wasn't offering," Johnny hisses, pinching his shoulder. Mark yelps, shifting until he's sitting on Johnny's lap, and—

"You're not any better," he quips. Confidence burns through him like alcohol, and he gives his hips an experimental roll, eliciting a surprised moan from Johnny.

"Fuck," Johnny curses, hands fly up to grip Mark's hips firmly.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," Johnny says. He sits up, holding Mark firmly so the younger doesn't topple off his lap. "I'm just surprised you're not freaking about doing anything remotely sexual."

"I've told you," he grinds down again. It's stifling, his jeans are constricting, and bordering on uncomfortable with how hot his body gets from the steady pleasure building in him. "I'm not going to freak out."

"Can I touch you then?" he stares at Mark, a little glassy eyed, almost pleading.

Mark can't deny him that, but he has to remind himself to use his voice and shakily breathes out, "Yes."

Johnny undoes his pants, fumbling too long with the zipper before he finally gets a hand into his underwear and curling around his length. Mark raises to his knees to push his pants down far enough that Johnny will have room to work.

Handjobs, he's had plenty of. Jerking himself off, even more. This doesn't feel out of the ordinary, even if the person doing it isn't a girl or himself. This is a comfortable level of touching he can handle from a guy, he doesn't even need to dwell on the fact that Johnny is very much male.

Johnny works his hand on him agonizingly slowly, it's a little too rough, the friction almost hurts, but Mark bucks his hips forward into the grasp, chasing for more.

"Good?" Johnny asks.

" _Great_ ," Mark gasps, grasping at Johnny's shoulders, "'s too dry though."

His hand slows to a halt, and Mark would whine if it weren't for the hungry look on Johnny's face, "Can I use my mouth?"

"Oh god," Mark hisses, "yes."

The couch is too small for this, but they manage to rearrange themselves so Johnny fits between his spread legs. His back is sure going to ache from how the stiff armrest digs into his lumbar, but he thinks it'll be worth it.

"If it makes it easier," Johnny starts, "pretend I'm a girl?"

" _That_ ," he gasps as Johnny strokes him, "would defeat the whole purpose of all this."

"Touché," is the last thing Johnny says before he has his mouth on him.

Blowjobs, Mark contemplates, are probably one of the least elegant things someone can do if he really thinks about it. There's no graceful way of sucking dick, but Johnny still looks so good with his lips stretched around his length. He looks pretty, Mark thinks, he has nice lips, and Mark has come to love kissing them, but this is nice too, the head of his cock resting on his bottom lip as he sucks. Or that could just be his sex addled brain speaking.

It's ridiculous how less coherent he could get, but he finds out quickly that he's absolutely mesmerized with how Johnny works his mouth. He takes the entire length into his mouth, and Mark is by no means huge, but he's not small either. The bravado Johnny has is impressive, even with Mark's cock nudging the back of his throat, and then he has the nerve to swallow around him. 

Mark thinks he's just about died, choking back a moan. He has no idea what to do with his hands, but he has to stop himself from gripping at Johnny's hair. Instead he runs his fingers through Johnny's bangs, pushing them out of the way, and Johnny's eyes are half-lidded, eyelashes fanned out prettily. His eyes are glazed over, and all it takes is one look from Johnny to knock the wind out of him. This time Mark isn't able to stifle the moan that escapes his lips.

Johnny continues working up and down his length, sucking at the tip, delving his tongue along the slit, and then he's back to the base and moaning, and it's too much too fast. The muscles in Mark's thighs grow taut, his body is breaking out in a sweat under all the layers he's still wearing, then there's that familiar heat building in his tummy.

"Johnny," he cries, absolutely wrecked. "I'm— oh fuck," it's all he manages to say before he's coming in Johnny's mouth with a broken moan, eyes squeezed shut. 

It takes him a moment to find his footing again, and when he looks down, his thighs are still shaking, there's come on his shirt, and all he's able to do is sit there stunned as Johnny reaches over to the coffee table for a wad of tissues and spits into it.

"That's disgusting," he comments just as Johnny wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Johnny licks his lips, already shiny and red, and Mark can't help but wonder what Johnny would look like if Johnny would let him come on his face. He's sure he's just died after that blowjob, otherwise his dick wouldn't already be twitching at the mere imagery.

"It's your spunk. Warn a guy next time," Johnny says, voice sounding a little rough. He gets up to toss the soiled tissues into the small trash can in the corner of the room.

"Sorry, I tried," he flushes. He averts his gaze as he tucks himself back into his underwear. "It was just too good."

"I've already sucked your dick, no need for the flattery," Johnny laughs.

"What about you?" he stares at the obvious bulge in Johnny's pants.

"What about me?"

"You know what I mean," Mark gestures, definitely not towards Johnny's erection.

"It's fine, I'll take care of it."

"No." Mark doesn't have time to process his own thoughts and the words are already falling from his lips, "I mean, can I watch?"

"What?"

"I want," he swallows, "I want to watch you."

"You sure seeing another guy's junk won't completely scare you off?" he frowns.

"I won't know how I feel about," he gestures between them, "all of this until I probably touch another guy's dick. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen a dick before."

"You're not gonna figure out your sexuality just by touching someone's dick, and porn doesn't count towards the amount of dicks you've seen, my guy."

"Alright, zero times zero is zero, but it's never too late. I'm an opportunist," says Mark proudly, eyes sparkling, "and I know an opportunity when I see one."

Johnny laughs, it's bright and melodic. "Okay," he says, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, "it's not too late—"

"Just take off your pants," Mark interrupts. 

"God, this is embarrassing," Johnny breathes, undoing his belt under Mark's watchful gaze. 

"You just gave me the suck of my life, and _this_ is what you're shy about?"

"That was the suck of your life? Good god, who have you been sleeping with?" He wiggles out of his jeans and briefs, until they're halfway down his thighs. 

"Clearly not you."

Perhaps it's just curiosity that's making Mark do these things, it's not like he doesn't have a dick of his own, and he's certain most guys are the same with how they handle their own arousal, but he watches adamantly as Johnny works his hand along his cock.

Johnny's dick is… nice? Mark thinks. As nice as dicks can get, which probably isn't very much. He's bigger than him, certainly longer, and a little thicker too, and it's a little intimidating. Mark still wonders what it would be like to touch Johnny though, his hands would probably make Johnny look bigger than he already is, but he keeps his hands in his own lap so he can watch Johnny jerk off.

Johnny's eyes are closed, lips parted slightly, his tongue occasionally peeks out to swipe at his bottom lip, and he's suddenly tempted to kiss him. He leans forward, capturing Johnny's lips with his own, startling the older man, his rhythm falters, and he moans quietly as he sloppily reciprocates.

"I wanna…" he swallows, "I wanna touch you."

"You're already touching me," Johnny breathily laughs. 

"I mean let me get you off."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." It comes out as a whine.

"Knock yourself out." Johnny removes his hand.

There's hesitation, of course. Johnny seems to notice it, so he takes Mark's wrist and guides his hand to his cock. It's different. A little girthier in his hold than his own cock, and his hand does make Johnny seem bigger. It's somewhat familiar, yet so strange to be touching a dick and not feeling any of it. 

His first stroke is experimental. He gauges Johnny's reaction and does it again when Johnny's eyes flutter close, lips parting into a quiet moan. 

"Yes, like that," Johnny hums.

He works him the way he does to himself, focusing on the sensitive head, the friction might be too much but the pre-cum dripping from the tip makes the slide a little easier.

"Good. You're doing good," Johnny praises, and he's suddenly filled with warmth, feeling much too proud for what it's worth, but it urges him on. He wants to please Johnny, wants to see him come undone, he feels good just seeing Johnny feel good and—

Johnny comes with his head thrown back as he spills messily into Mark's hand. The younger strokes him through it, enraptured by everything that is Johnny. All he's able to focus on is the low breathy moan leaving Johnny's lips, and the way Johnny's eyes slide up to meet his with such an indescribable intensity that Mark catches himself moaning too. He gets so lost in the scene before him that Johnny has to urge him to stop with a hand on his wrist.

It's almost like nothing has happened.

Mark barely has time to dwell on it even if he wanted to. He spends most of the final weeks of the semester at the library with Yukhei. On most days, he gets home late, feeling completely exhausted and wired from too much caffeine. Johnny seems to be the same. Mark barely sees him, and when he does, it's not for more than ten minutes at a time.

The week feels like it's been dragging on forever, it's only Wednesday, but he finishes up earlier than usual today.

Mark has had his fair share of getting sexiled without warning. Most instances involved Donghyuck when they used to room together. He hasn't had to deal with that since moving in with Johnny, because unlike Donghyuck, Johnny has the decency to text him a warning first.

So the last thing Mark expects to see when he walks into their apartment on a Wednesday night is Johnny with his cock shoved down some guy's throat, and zero notifications on his phone.

The usual protocol for this involves hiding out at Ten's place for a few hours, and complaining about awful roommates. In the fifteen minutes it takes to walk to Ten's apartment, all that's running through his brain is the image of Johnny with someone Mark doesn't recognize, and it does nothing to quell the sour feeling bubbling in his gut.

"Hey," Ten regards him for a moment before letting him in, "what are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."

"Neither was I," replies Mark despondently. He drops his backpack to the floor the second he enters, but the physical relief only does so much for him. He heads straight for the couch, tries not to think about couches and _Johnny_.

"What's wrong, love?" Ten joins him on the couch, carding his hand through Mark's hair tenderly.

"Got sexiled," he murmurs.

It's that look again. The one Ten had on his face a few weeks back in the bathroom. Mark doesn't know what to make of it. His expression shifts to one of understanding, one that both of them are too familiar with, it's a little sympathetic and it makes him feel a little better. He needs the pity. 

"Have you eaten yet?" Ten asks instead.

"No."

"You hungry?" he asks. He's starving, but he doesn't seem to have the appetite, so he shrugs.

"Okay, I haven't eaten either so I'll order some pizza, you can have some if you feel like it, m'kay?" Ten whispers, his voice is soothing like this, and the hand in his hair is gentle. Mark thinks he could fall asleep like this, it'll at least help him forget all his worries.

He realizes he does doze off when he's being gently shaken awake.

"Pizza's here," Ten says softly, his hand petting through Mark's hair coaxes him awake, "I got your favourite."

"Thanks," he sleepily mumbles, "you didn't have to."

"You looked like you deserve something good today."

He manages to eat one slice whilst passively listening to Ten talk about what's happened in his life since the last time he saw him. Mark usually tunes it out, but listening to Ten is a lot better than having his thoughts drift off elsewhere. Particularly anything pertaining to his own life. 

He never leaves the crust but it just seems less appetizing than it usually does, he doesn't think he can even stomach another slice.

"So you and Johnny, huh," Ten starts, trying to fill the silence that had fallen between them. He's run out of things to say, and this is the last thing Mark wants to talk about.

"We're just friends," he hastily answers. 

"Sure as hell didn't seem like it. I know flirting when I see it, what is it that you said? _'I'd rather you kiss me elsewhere'_?" Ten recites. Hearing it for himself, Mark can see why Ten would think that it's more flirty than he had intended, but he got the message across anyway. It's fine.

"We've just been messing around, that's all," he confesses. "As friends."

"Is that why you're upset?"

"Why would I be upset?" Mark questions.

There's no fooling Ten, he is upset, but it's not because of Johnny. He just feels awful about himself and he doesn't know why.

"You walked in on your fuckbuddy fucking someone else."

"We're not fuckbuddies, we've never even fucked," he clarifies. "I don't think I'm even into guys."

That must be it, he thinks, that must be why he feels so sick thinking about Johnny with some other guy. He just doesn't like men, why else would it make him feel the way he does. They're not mutually exclusive either, Johnny can fuck whoever he wants, Mark knows this, it's what they established at the beginning. He shouldn't care.

"You don't sound very certain about that," Ten comments, there's no malice in his words but it still throws him in a loop and he feels sicker than ever. He's back to thinking about it again — his sexuality, Johnny, fuck even Yukhei of all people. If it wasn't for Yukhei he wouldn't be in this mess.

"I don't know," he utters, "we've gotten each other off before, and I wasn't repulsed by it. It's… I just don't know what I feel. It's confusing."

Ten falls unnervingly quiet, despite adamantly trying to fill the silence before. Mark doesn't push it though, it gives him time to breathe, but that's cut short by the mischievous look in Ten's eyes. His stomach sinks.

"Can I try something?" Ten suggests, turning to face him. 

"Uh, sure?" he says cautiously.

Ten grabs his shirt, pulling him forward and kisses him square on the lips. It's chaste, nothing like the kisses with Johnny, but it's not awkward and clumsy like it was with Yukhei all those years ago. Kissing Ten feels different from kissing Johnny, but not so different from kissing Yukhei.

It doesn't feel quite right, but it doesn't feel entirely wrong either.

He trudges through the remainder of the semester feeling weary and restless, he's exhausted by the time final exams start. His exams are all scheduled within a four day period, and he doesn't know how he's going to cram a semester's worth of material into his head, but at this point he doesn't care, all he wants is three and a half naps and a passable grade.

Johnny is exceptionally busy, Mark has never seen him this occupied before. In fact, he doesn't see him at all, and he takes Johnny as a personal example of why graduate school might not actually be worth the suffering.

It's a good thing he doesn't see Johnny though, Mark doesn't know if he can face him right now.

As per tradition, the end of the semester closes with celebratory drinks at the club. In the two years Mark has attended university, he knows one thing for certain: tequila is a backstabbing bitch. He's only twenty, but he already has a backlog of drunken regrets because of it, and it makes knocking back the commemorative shot feel worse than it already is. He hates this tradition. Apparently it was Yuta who started this whole thing when he was in university, it's stuck ever since and Yuta isn't even here.

Yukhei shares the same sentiment, but he seems less inclined from abstaining tonight. Mark watches as his best friend knocks back shot after shot whilst he sips his own fruity cocktail. He's already wincing at the killer hangover Yukhei is going to have tomorrow, but maybe this is the encouragement Yukhei needs to finally do something about his stupid crush on Ten. Clearly, Mark's efforts of helping haven't been very effective.

Yukhei doesn't take the initiative, though. It's Ten who does something first but instead of dragging Yukhei with him to the dance floor, he takes Mark's wrist instead. Mark tries not to laugh at the confused look on Yukhei's face, but this isn't out of the ordinary, Yukhei has refused Ten so many times that Ten had just given up on him and he goes straight to Mark or someone else instead. 

Mark isn't much of a dancer, though he likes dancing a lot more when he gets a few drinks in him to loosen him up, and he usually has Ten with him. Ten always makes it feel so much easier.

Ten's hands find a place on his hips, keeping him close, and Mark can hear him giggling through the music, "Have you gotten better at dancing?"

"I've learned from the best," he laughs, "I think Yukhei might benefit from a lesson or two."

That prompts Ten to look over towards the bar where they had left Yukhei. He's probably still there but Mark doesn't pay any mind to it. It's his loss for being so passive.

"Does he? I've never seen him dance, he always refuses when I ask," Ten pouts.

"I think he’s just shy."

"Are we talking about the same Yukhei? The one who befriends everyone he meets? The one who once streaked across a soccer field because Sicheng dared him to?" Ten asks incredulously.

"He _what_?!" Now that's news to him, he dismisses it because he really doesn't want to know, and he's already getting second hand embarrassment just thinking about how that situation came to be. "Whatever. He's an extravert, but that doesn't mean he's confident with everything he does. In high school, his class presentations were a stuttering mess, but he would openly hang out with teachers during lunch."

"I never thought of that," Ten cocks his head, "I guess that makes sense."

They dance for what feels like ages. His head is buzzing, and he feels deliriously hot and sweaty. Any more physical contact would be unwelcome but he doesn't protest when Ten looks at him with a glint in his eyes as he winds his arms around his neck. 

"Hey," Ten grins, his eyes flicker past him and towards the bar once again.

"What's up?"

"Not to alarm you, babe, but some guy by the bar has been watching you for the last two songs," he says, voice low but loud enough for him to hear above the music.

"You sure he isn't looking at you?" Mark snorts. It's probably Yukhei, and if it's not Yukhei, they're still probably looking at Ten. It's understandable, Ten is undeniably gorgeous, even Mark could acknowledge that, anyone with eyes that work to some degree is able to see just how beautiful he is.

"Hm, why don't you take a look for yourself," Ten hums.

Mark does. No one by the bar seems to be paying him any attention, they're either chatting with each other or with the bartender. But exactly where they left him, he spots Yukhei talking to—

"Johnny?" he exclaims in disbelief. His gaze catches the older man's, and he swears his heart leaps out of his chest and onto the floor where it's trampled over by the other patrons. He looks back at Ten who's now grinning at him coyly. "Oh fuck off, dude, I shouldn't have told you."

"I think it's cute," Ten coos, caressing his cheek, his hand feels cool against Mark's alcohol-flushed skin, then it drops down to hold his hand, and he pulls Mark out of the crowd and towards the bar. If Mark wasn't so exhausted from dancing, he would try to pull away but his energy is completely depleted and he lets Ten drag him along.

Everything seems to be knocked off its axis at this point. He thinks he's entered an alternate dimension because Ten lets go of his hand in favour of taking Yukhei's hand and he's dragging the taller man towards the dance floor leaving Mark alone with Johnny.

"That's surprising." Johnny watches Ten and Yukhei with an amused smile on his face.

"Yeah," he agrees. It is surprising, just as surprising as Johnny's presence. He's not supposed to be here, he had even adamantly refused their invitation this time, stating that he had some things to attend to before the semester ended. "What're you doing here?"

"I finished everything early," Johnny says proudly, he looks relieved albeit a little tired. He still looks good though, Mark catches himself thinking. He's just standing there with a drink in hand, dressed in a simple tee tucked into a pair of fitted jeans, and the denim jacket and red flannel layered underneath is something Mark has seen a hundred times. He looks like he just came from school with how casual he looks, it's nothing different from his usual outfits, regardless he still looks good.

"So you're not here to hook up with someone while I'm not home?" It's meant to be a joke, but he feels bitter saying it.

Johnny looks confused, but the slow realization becomes apparent on his face by the faint blush tinting his face. "You saw. Shit, sorry 'bout that, man. I meant to text you, but I thought it would be fine since you've been coming home late." 

"It's fine, I've seen worse," he dismisses. "Was that… was that someone you're seeing?" Mark hates how heavy those words sound, he can't bring himself to look at Johnny. Instead he stares at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar, there's a bottle of tequila right in his line of sight, apparently he doesn't need to get hammered on tequila shots to regret things.

"No," he says simply. There's nothing to his reply, no longing, no wishing, no wanting. It's just _no_. A simple one syllable word, and that's all it takes to make him feel better. He doesn't know why it feels so cathartic, it shouldn't matter to him who Johnny sleeps with or dates.

"I see," he distantly replies.

"Does it bother you?" Johnny's voice is soft, but still audible through the music.

"Of course it doesn't," Mark leans against the bar, "just warn me next time, dude. Just because I've seen your junk before doesn't mean I'm okay with seeing it shoved down some poor guy's throat."

"Alright," Johnny snorts, "that's fair."

"Good, glad to have that sorted." Mark glances back over to Johnny who is now finishing off his drink.

"C'mon, let's dance. Ten and Yukhei can't be the only ones having fun." Johnny grins, and he has Mark's wrist in his hand before Mark is able to protest.

His muscles are still burning from dancing with Ten, but Johnny's hands on his hips are guiding his sways along with the music. Mark would probably lose his balance if Johnny wasn't holding him up right. He presses a little closer, much closer than he had been with Ten, their limbs occasionally brush against each other.

It's in a moment of bravery that he wills himself to press their hips together, grinding forward experimentally. Johnny grips him tighter, his hands slide back until they're grasping Mark's ass and pulling him impossibly close to grind back against him.

Under the strobing lights, Mark can still see, _feel_ how intensely Johnny is staring at him. He feels so hot, and it's not just from sweating profusely for whoever knows how long they've been dancing or the few drinks he has in his system. Johnny's gaze just gets him hot, it's dizzying.

He kisses Johnny for the first time in weeks, and it's exactly how he expects it. He misses this and maybe he misses Johnny too, and he realizes in that moment why kissing Johnny feels so different compared to kissing Yukhei or Ten.

Kissing Johnny feels much like kissing someone he's in love with.

It's not a comparison he wants to make, but the feeling is reminiscent with how he felt when he was dating his previous girlfriend. But Johnny is Johnny, he's his own person, and he's nothing like Mark's ex. Mark likes Johnny for who he is.

Oh. Mark likes Johnny.

"Something wrong?" Johnny asks, the tenderness in his voice makes his heart swell. Yeah, Mark likes Johnny.

Mark shakes his head, looking up at him through his lashes, "Let's go home."

They're barely through the front door but Mark is already crowding Johnny against it, kissing him hard and desperate like he hasn't seen him in months. Johnny slides a leg between his thighs, pulling the younger close as he rocks against him. Mark’s legs buckle, and he is certain he would have collapsed if he wasn't leaning so heavily against Johnny, desperate for as much contact as possible. His pants are starting to feel tight but the friction is enough to have him panting by the time they break apart. Johnny doesn't seem any less affected, head knocking back against the door and groaning.

"Fuck," Mark curses.

"Not here," Johnny murmurs.

Johnny's bed sheets feel cool against his skin but his hands are hot and all over him, mouth pressing small kisses along his jaw and down his neck, Mark doesn't want him to stop. He's still partially clothed, they both are, his shirt has long been tossed off somewhere along the way and Johnny is equally as topless.

God, Johnny looks good. If an adolescent Johnny thought Chris Pine was hot, then a twenty year old Mark thinks Johnny is hot. He's all lean muscle and Mark wants every inch of it covering his body. He pulls Johnny down for another kiss, seeking out his mouth with less urgency and desperation than before. It still makes his breath catch in his throat and head spin.

"How do you wanna do this?" Johnny asks between breaths.

"I— um," he flounders.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he says ever so gently. He tucks a strand of Mark's hair behind his ear, fingers lingering on the shell and it's so tender Mark wants to cry. Johnny is so careful with him, so patient and understanding, but he wants what Johnny is cautious of giving him, he can see how much more the other man wants, and it's something he doesn't want to deny.

"I really want to suck your dick," he blurts. Maybe it's the remnants of bitterness he feels about seeing Johnny with someone else that's fuelling his boldness, but Mark really wants to put his mouth on him. As terrifying as the idea actually is in his head, he wants to be good for Johnny too. Good enough that Johnny doesn't have to seek someone else out for what he wants.

"You sure?" Johnny raises his brows, "If you think you're obligated to just because I've sucked you off before, you're not."

"It's not that," he says, undoing Johnny's belt, "I'm asking on my own volition." He feels hot all over being held under Johnny's studious gaze, but he persists with as much confidence as he's able to muster.

"Okay, remember, you can back out at any moment." He takes Mark's hands, prying them off him so he can take off his jeans and underwear himself.

"Unlikely," he says in an attempt to hype himself up.

He's received enough blowjobs to know how this is supposed to work. Mouth meets dick. It should be that simple, yet it's so daunting now that he's between Johnny's legs. He starts with what he knows best, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it the same way he had done the last time he had touched him.

"Take your time, no need to rush it," Johnny calmly encourages. He's surprisingly composed for how hard he is. What did Mark do to deserve to have someone so patient and understanding.

He starts off slow, hand wrapped around the base, darting his tongue out for a kittenish lick along the underside of the head. It tastes a little salty and bitter, it's not particularly unpleasant, but it isn't something he's familiar with, so he continues lapping at the beading precome at the tip. He moves lower, flattening his tongue against the thick vein on the underside, slowly running it from the base, feeling every inch of it against his tongue until he reaches the tip, where he wraps his lips around the head to give it a gentle suck.

Blowjobs, Mark finds out for himself, are in fact one of the least elegant things someone can do. It's already so sloppy, he has saliva on his chin, and it's only going to get messier. Somehow he doesn't seem to mind.

"You're doing good," Johnny praises, he doesn't seem to mind either. He runs his fingers through Mark's hair, and a fresh wave of enthusiasm runs through him, urging him to finally take the length into his mouth. He has no baseline of how much he can fit in his mouth before he gags but he finds out it's not very much and he's pulling off with tears in his eyes and his throat fluttering.

"Easy tiger," Johnny warns, wiping at the tears prickling at his eyes with his thumb. "What did I say about taking your time?"

"Sorry," he says automatically. He feels like he's being reprimanded for not doing something right.

"What are you apologizing for?" Johnny soothes, running his thumb across his cheek. Mark leans into the touch, afraid that if he strays too far, everything will come to a halt.

"I just want it to be good."

"Oh, but it is good. You're doing so well." He moves his thumb to Mark's lips, pressing against the bottom lip. Mark darts his tongue out to lick the digit, and the sound of Johnny's breath hitching satisfies something deep within him. "Do you want to continue?"

"Yes."

Eager to please, he tries again. He's more cautious this time, mindful of his teeth, and careful of his gag reflex, working a hand on what he can't reach with his mouth. The weight of Johnny's cock on his tongue makes his jaw ache, but it's worth it with the way Johnny is moaning and watching him with rapt attention. He loves the attention, loves that Johnny's eyes are on him and him only, loves that Johnny is the only person that's ever seen him like this. 

"Shit, you sure you've never sucked dick before?" Johnny sounds out of breath.

He moans, wants to say _you're my first_ , instead he stares at Johnny through heavy lids. The other man looks wrecked, looks like he's holding everything back not to fuck Mark's face with abandon. If his gag reflex wasn't so horrible, he wouldn't mind letting him do exactly that, it's astonishing the things Johnny makes him want to do.

"You're doing great." Johnny's hand finds its spot on Mark's crown, not quite pushing or pulling, it just rests on his head in an encouraging manner as Mark works his mouth up and down the length, tongue flattening along the slit and lapping up the precome practically spilling out of it. It's heady, and he thinks there's too much spit with the way his cock glistens in the light.

Johnny is so hard, but so is he, his own cock straining against his jeans, throbbing painfully in its confines. He never knew sucking dick would get him this turned on, but he loves pleasing people and for a first time blowjob, Mark thinks he's doing a pretty decent job at pleasing Johnny.

"That's enough, c'mere." Johnny sits up. His hand curls around Mark's nape and he's pulling Mark into a languid spit-slick kiss. Mark clumsily clambers onto his lap, arms looping around Johnny's neck. Johnny slides on hand to the front of Mark's jeans, groping at the straining erection and Mark feels himself crumbling.

"Shit, did you get hard from sucking me off?" Johnny questions, running his palm along the length, squeezing his fingers through the fabric. Mark has to stifle a moan, he feels so pathetic, so fucking horny, he feels like a teenager again, learning how to touch someone for the first time, and any physical contact might make him come in his pants.

"I— yes," Mark stammers.

"You like making me feel good?" Johnny undoes his jeans, pulling his cock out. The relief is immediate when Johnny gets his hand on him, stroking upwards with a twist of his wrist, and _fuck_ , he feels so on edge already. He moans, pressing his forehead against Johnny's shoulder, rutting his hips into Johnny's tight grip.

"Tell me what you want, I won't know unless you tell me, baby."

 _Baby_ , of all things Johnny could call him. _Baby_ , fuck Johnny and the way he makes him feel.

"I just wanna make you feel good." It comes out as a whine, pleading and desperate.

Johnny's hand stops stroking him and the loss prompts Mark to lift his head from his shoulder, he might actually cry. Johnny is staring at him with eyes so dark, Mark doesn't know what it reads but he looks like he wants to devour him whole, and without hesitation Mark would let him.

"Okay, wait just one second," Johnny says after a moment.

From where he's sitting, Johnny has to twist and stretch a bit to reach the night stand, but it gives Mark a lovely view of his muscles stretching long and taut. Mark runs a hand along his abdomen as the muscles shift and twist.

It feels like Johnny is searching forever, so Mark takes this time to finally take off his jeans, his underwear going with it. Johnny eventually returns with a bottle and a condom in his hand and Mark knows exactly where this is going. His throat goes dry and he feels all colour drain from his face.

He's not ready for _this_. He's thought about it a few times while jerking off, but he usually ends up pushing that thought to the side, and ends up finishing off ashamed or not finishing off at all. If there's anyone Mark would let fuck him, Johnny would be the first person he'd spread his legs for, but right now, he's not mentally prepared for this at all. It's almost as if Johnny senses his inner turmoil, he runs a hand along his side, and it calms him a bit.

"Would it be too much to ask if I said I wanted you to fuck me," Johnny says. _Oh_.

"Oh _god_ ," Mark heaves. He hadn't thought of it the other way. The few times he's let the idea entertain him since they started doing this, he's always imagined being the one on the receiving end.

"Is that a no?"

"No! I mean I want to." He shuffles off of Johnny's lap to kneel between his legs, taking the bottle of lube from Johnny's hold. Mark knows the general gist of how this is supposed to work, but he's being put on the spot right now and his mind goes blank. 

"You know how to do this?" Johnny asks.

"Uh, one finger, two fingers, three fingers, dick?" It's not the most eloquent way of putting it, if anything it's as crude as it could possibly get but in layman's terms, that's exactly how it’s supposed to go. 

"Gold star," Johnny chuckles, laying down, and grabs one of the pillows and shoves it under his hips for leverage. 

"My parents would be so proud of me," he deadpans. Johnny laughs again, Mark doesn't think he'll ever get sick of the melodic way his voice pitches.

He pours what might be too much lube onto his fingers, he's not too sure, some of it drips off his hand and he feels bad for making such a mess of Johnny's bed before he's even started. He feels so clumsy, it's embarrassing.

"Start slow," Johnny instructs, pulling his legs to his chest, and Mark is beginning to sense a pattern. Slow is good.

He spreads the lube across Johnny's entrance, and Johnny winces a bit.

"Shit, sorry!" Mark stares at him wide eyed. He's absolutely terrified of hurting Johnny or completely fucking everything up or just outright embarrassing himself.

But Johnny shakes his head, "You're fine, it's just a lil' cold. Keep going."

Mark continues, pushing a finger in, slowly like he was instructed to. It sinks in easily, and when Johnny doesn't voice any complaints, he withdraws it then pushes in again, working the finger in and out.

"That's good," Johnny hums, "another one."

Mark diligently obeys. He pushes the second finger in, this one meets a little more resistance, so he repeats what he had done with the first finger, slowly thrusting his fingers in until he feels the muscle beginning to loosen. He alternates between spreading them and curling them.

Johnny chuckles, "Up, curl your fingers up, baby."

He complies, orientating his wrist the other way and curling his fingers upwards. It takes a few tries but when he gets it, the reaction is instantaneous, so much stronger than Mark had anticipated. Johnny clenches around his fingers tightly, head tipped back as his hips pushes back onto his fingers.

"God, this feels so wrong," Johnny moans. 

"Am I doing something wrong?" Mark blinks at him owlishly.

"No, I just feel like I'm corrupting you."

"You’re not," Mark snorts, "I may not know what the fuck I'm doing half the time but I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"You'll have to prove it," he snarkily responds.

Mark repeats the action effectively shutting the other man up with a curl of his fingers. It drags another long drawn moan out of him. If Mark could permanently imprint anything into his memory, this would be it: Johnny pushing back onto his fingers and looking more than desperate.

"Keep going, another," Johnny demands, running a hand through his own hair, whilst his other hand lazily tugs at his cock.

The third finger is a tight fit, Mark could only imagine how Johnny would feel around him, his own cock throbbing in anticipation. He doesn't know how he's still hard, but Johnny seems to be enjoying himself, and the thought of finally finding relief keeps him going.

He does his best to work Johnny open, spreading his fingers while Johnny encourages him with more praises.

"That's good enough, Mark." Johnny sounds breathless, "'m ready."

"I liked it better when you called me baby."

"Yeah?" Johnny smirks, sitting upright to press a tentative kiss on his lips.

"Yeah," Mark mindlessly agrees.

Johnny hastily works to get the condom on him. He pours a generous amount of lube into his hand to work along Mark's cock. If Mark's cock had flagged a bit since the last time Johnny touched him, it's back to full hardness by the time it's slicked up and ready.

"C'mon, fuck me." Johnny stares at him through hooded eyes, hooking his hands under his knees to hike them up and apart, and Mark can't say no to that, neither can his dick.

He pushes in slowly, and instantly, Johnny feels like a vice grip around him, tight, suffocating and hot. He watches every micro reaction on Johnny's face with bated breath, the furrow of brows and teeth digging into his plush bottom lip is concerning, but he's moaning openly with every inch that's sinking into him.

Mark lets out a shaky exhale when he's fully seated against his ass, it's a lot, and he swears Johnny is clenching around him on purpose, an unspoken plea to _move_. He grasps Johnny's thighs for leverage, pulling out slowly, then thrusting forward.

"You can be a little rougher, baby. It takes a lot more to break me," Johnny urges, and Mark slams his hips forwards, eliciting a moan from Johnny. "Yes, like that."

Mark changes the pace and angle, faster and more fluid, a dribble of precome spills onto Johnny's stomach, sticky and glistening. 

"Good, you're doing so, so, so good," Johnny mindlessly comments. Mark is practically aching, muscles burning and his cock is so stiff, pulsing at every praise that falls from Johnny's mouth. Johnny feels so warm, and oppressive around him, it has him breathing ragged and uneven, it’s dizzying. 

Johnny looks absolutely wrecked, his hair is sticking up at different angles as he runs a hand through it, while his other hand jerks himself off, and the way Johnny is staring at him, eyes glazed over with arousal is almost enough to send Mark over the edge.

It's when Mark thinks he's close when Johnny locks his legs behind his back, and pulls Mark flush against him, restricting all movement. He's in such a daze from trying to please Johnny and chase his own release that he doesn't even know how he ends up being the one lying on the bed with Johnny on top of him, lining himself back up and sinking down hard in one fluid motion.

Mark cries, "Shit."

Johnny braces his hands by Mark's head, face hovering above his. Johnny, Mark thinks, is breathtakingly handsome, even with sweat dripping down his temple and looking like an absolute mess as he grinds down on Mark's cock.

The pace Johnny sets is quick and relentless, he gives no warning when he raises up and slams back down. It's suddenly so overwhelming, Mark feels like his body is on fire, hot and hazy as Johnny fucks himself on his cock. If he was on edge before, he's tumbling down now, he’s so close, it's almost unbearable.

He finds some leverage with his hands on Johnny's hips and his feet planted on the mattress in an attempt to thrust up, but Johnny keeps his pace fast and hard, Mark has trouble keeping up, and he soon finds himself coming hard, shuddering as Johnny's gaze bores into him, dark and heavy.

"Oh god," he shakily breathes.

"You did so well, baby," Johnny coos, lifting himself off of his lap, but Mark stops him.

"Keep going," he pleads, "I want to see you to come on my dick."

Johnny appraises him for a moment, "You're full of surprises, huh."

He lines himself back up, sinking down and keeping his pace slow. Mark feels alight, so overstimulated and worn, he's no longer capable of responding with anything other than small whimpers to Johnny's soft moaning.

Even when he's starting to soften, and feel oversensitive, he just wants to see Johnny come, so he wraps a hand around his cock, jerking him off as Johnny uses him. It doesn't take more than a few strokes before Johnny is coming, clamping down on him, and spilling all over his stomach with a deep moan.

There's such a mess between them. Mark runs his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach, and brings his hand to his mouth to give an experimental lick.

" _Jesus fucking Christ_ ," Johnny groans, "you really are full of surprises."

The only thing Mark looks forward to doing during his winter break is doing absolutely nothing, which actually just involves binging the original Star Trek series on Netflix.

The holidays themselves don't really excite him as much anymore. He still tries to decorate their apartment with small decorations and even lights a scented holiday candle to get into the festive spirit, but they forgo the tree because neither of them are really spending Christmas at home nor can they afford it.

His parents live an hour away, and he's planning to visit them for a few days. Johnny is out of town for two weeks visiting his parents for the first time since last Christmas. They won't see each other until the new year, but Mark still finds himself missing Johnny's company.

It's quiet without Johnny around, even if the other man isn't that noisy of a roommate to begin with. He misses their movie nights that would often lead to late night conversations over tteokbokki and ramyeon and other late night snacks, he misses their joint attempts at cooking decent meals in the kitchen, or the rare occasions he would join Johnny at the gym.

He misses Johnny's company, maybe he just misses Johnny.

He hangs out with Yukhei and Ten as often as he's able to stand. Ever since Yukhei got his shit together and finally asked Ten out, they've been disgustingly attached to each other, and it's more the reason for him to stay at home and watch anime for the rest of his vacation. It was cute for maybe the first five minutes of them dropping the bomb on him, but Mark supposes it's the karma he gets for teasing Yukhei about his crush on Ten.

"Please, for the love of god, let me enjoy my bennies in peace," Mark grumbles to the couple across from him. Getting brunch seemed like a fun idea at first, but he's beginning to doubt it with every passing second he's within their proximity.

"Dude, you're just jealous I have a boy I can kiss," Yukhei snipes.

" _Please_ as if I've never kissed Ten before," Mark shoots back. He didn't mean to admit that, but Yukhei's reaction is worth it.

"You what?! When?!" Yukhei sputters, "How could you do this to me."

"Before you, loser," he sticks out his tongue. "Besides, it was actually Ten who kissed me first."

"That's enough you two," Ten chides. "It's not like you two haven't kissed each other either."

"That's fair," Yukhei petulantly mutters, prodding his fork into his eggs.

"Don't remind me." 

"What? Was it so bad?" Yukhei looks offended.

"You're not the best kisser," Mark replies. 

"Neither are you! Ten I'm the better kisser right?" Yukhei turns to the other man, tugging at his sleeve childishly. Ten merely rolls his eyes.

"Well," Ten starts, "I've never frenched Mark, so I can't really compare."

"Neither will you ever get the chance," Mark laments.

"Is it because you've decided you don't like men?" Yukhei questions.

"No you idiot, it's because you're dating him."

"Right," Yukhei nods. The three fall into an easy silence, enjoying the rest of their meal, before Yukhei pipes up again, "Does that mean you've figured out your sexuality?"

"I… I don't know," he solemnly admits.

"Oh, Mark baby. It's fine if you don't know," Ten comforts. _Baby_. The weight of it just doesn't feel the same coming from Ten.

"I know that, um," he feels his face growing hot, "I know I like Johnny, if that means anything."

The two of them share a look, and Ten softly smiles, "It means a lot more than you think it does."

Figuring out his sexuality has been a difficult process. There's still doubt he has about being straight, but he also doubts being attracted to men as well. He's thought about it in the past, but every time it would happen, he would push that thought to the side, and would feel so ashamed for thinking that way. That's not what he's _supposed_ to feel. At least that's what everyone around him led him to believe.

It wasn't until Yukhei came out to him that he thought, maybe it's okay to think about boys that way.

Figuring out he likes Johnny had been an easier process. He's denied it equally, but all it takes to know how much he actually likes Johnny (and it's not just his dick speaking for him) is the way his heart swoops when he sees him for the first time in two weeks. All Mark wants to do is spend time with him. He just wants to be with Johnny, and selfishly, he wants Johnny to himself.

It's Mark who suggests watching the remaining two Star Trek films to Johnny's surprise.

"That's four hours, dude," Johnny warns. "I mean I'm down, but that's a lot of Star Trek."

"I binged the original series while you were gone, four hours is nothing."

There's a certain sparkle to Johnny's eyes, and even under the dim lighting of their living room, Mark can see it. He knows that look, it's one Mark has come to associate with excitement towards things Johnny is passionate about. "You did?"

"Yep."

"I'm so proud of you," Johnny sniffs, wiping away faux tears.

Four hours and two bags of popcorn later, Mark mourns just how fast time has flown by. By the time they finish, it's already dark out, his eyes are starting to strain, and his back is starting to ache.

"What'd you think?" Johnny asks as the credits of the last film starts rolling.

"Sulu's gay in this?" Mark blinks at him.

"I know right? It might be one of the best things Simon Pegg did to this series. To have a gay character that already has an established and iconic role was kinda a smart move. Everyone knows Sulu, so having him have a husband and daughter without overtly having his sexuality define him is great. It's mundane, there's no fanfare behind it. He's gay, and that's normal."

"I need Simon Pegg to write my life," Mark sighs.

"Hey, bud," Johnny calls out. He reaches for Mark's hand, and runs his thumb over his knuckles. It's warm and comforting. "There's nothing wrong with questioning your identity."

"I'm twenty," Mark averts his gaze, "shouldn't I have already figured this out already?"

"There's plenty of people who realize later in life, you're barely an adult. Do you know what's also part of your identity? Your career path, and you and I both know you don't have that figured out either."

"Right," Mark laughs bitterly, "but at least I have university to guide me through it."

"And what am I to you?" Johnny questions. "Have I not been trying to guide you too?"

"You have, you've done a lot already," Mark listlessly smiles. "I've been thinking about it. I think I might be bisexual. I'm not sure, but it feels right." he says with an edge of uncertainty, but the word doesn't feel too weighty to him, but it doesn't feel wrong.

"It's okay, you don't have to know," Johnny soothes, and Mark hates how it makes his heart flutter. "Look at it this way, you're not attracted to every girl you meet, so you don't need to be attracted to every guy you meet either."

"That makes sense. I do know one thing for certain," he looks at Johnny, and he feels himself crumbling from all the attention Johnny is giving him, "I like you."

It's that look again, that look from so many months back. The one that made him want to retreat and hide, the one that Mark wasn't able to quite read back then, but now he thinks he knows what it is. Frustration.

"I know it's stupid and makes no sense. I don't know what my sexuality is, but I know I like you. I know you said you didn't want it to get weird between us, and I did just that, fuck. We can stop this if you want, I know how much you hated the idea at first."

Johnny smiles. It's far from the reaction Mark was expecting, neither was he expecting Johnny to kiss him. It's tender and sweet, yet so different from all the other kisses they've shared. Yeah, kissing Johnny does feel so much like kissing someone he's in love with, his heart absolutely aches.

"You didn't make it weird, I promise," Johnny pauses, "do you know why I didn't want to help you before?"

He shakes his head.

"It's because I felt like I would be taking advantage of you. I needed time to think it over because I didn't want my feelings to get in the way of my judgment." Johnny hesitantly looks away. "What I'm trying to say is that I like you too, I have for an embarrassingly long time. I thought maybe I just wanted to sleep with you, and then it happened and I realized how incredibly fucked I was for falling for a straight friend."

"Well, not so straight," Mark supplies, he slides a hand up Johnny's thigh, "and we don't have to be friends."

"Are you asking me out?" Johnny asks incredulously.

"I guess I am."

"Well, Mark Lee, I would love to go out with you."

"I still like it better when you call me baby," he mumbles.

"Is that so, baby?" Johnny pulls him onto his lap, kissing him slow and deep, and all Mark is able to respond with is a pleased hum.

It's crazy how Johnny makes him feel, even now, he's having trouble believing any of this is happening, but the hands Johnny has cupping his face is telling enough. Johnny is right there in front of him, and Mark feels so, so lucky to have him.

"What's wrong?" Johnny asks.

"Nothing, just thinking..." Mark breathes, "about how much I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure?" Johnny stares at him, lips parted. "We don't have to do it that way."

"If it's with you, I want to." he admits shyly.

"God, who knew you were such a sap."

"Shut up," he swats at Johnny's arm, "do you want to fuck me or not?"

"Oh, I've wanted to fuck you for a very long time, Markie, you have no idea," he runs his hands down Mark's back until they reach his ass, and gives his cheeks a playful squeeze. "Not here though."

Without warning, Johnny hooks his hands under his thighs, hoisting him up. Mark yelps, and he has no choice but to cling to Johnny's shoulders as he's carried off to Johnny's bedroom.

"Holy shit, dude, warn me next time!" Mark gasps as Johnny sets him down on the bed. His cock is beginning to fill, and he doesn't know why his dick is reacting to something like this.

Johnny wordlessly chuckles, a deep vibrato as he presses kisses down his neck. He only stops to pull Mark's shirt off, then he's back to kissing down his chest. His tongue catches one of his nipples, and Mark arches into his mouth. He really is learning something new every time he's with Johnny, because he never realized just how sensitive his nipples are until this very second.

Johnny continues down his body until he reaches his navel, pulling Mark's sweatpants and underwear off, and his mouth is back on him again. Teeth grazing the prominent jut of his hip bone, down to his thighs where he sucks a particularly dark mark on the supple inner flesh.

Johnny is still fully clothed, Mark realizes. They've both been fully nude around each other before, but the stark contrast between them right now makes him feel so vulnerable.

"Why am I the only one naked?" he whines, tugging at Johnny's shirt, "Take off your clothes."

Johnny makes quick work of ridding himself of his clothes, into the vague pile now accumulating on the floor. He doesn't return right away, and Mark knows exactly what he's looking for when he pulls the drawer of his night stand open.

Mark is really doing this, he's really going to let Johnny fuck him. He knows he wants this, there isn't much doubt about it, but there's still a nervous ball of anxiety festering in him.

"Can you turn around for me?" Johnny sets the lube and condom down on the bed.

"But I want to look at you."

"You can later. Just turn around for now." Johnny smiles endearingly, patting a hand on Mark's thigh.

He feels so exposed like this, legs spread and ass up, his chest is pressed against a pillow for a little bit of leverage. Johnny leaves a trail of kisses down his spine, teeth occasionally scraping along the knobs of his spine, and hands skittering across his skin.

"You have a nice ass," Johnny offhandedly comments with a hand caressing one cheek.

"I do?" Mark cranes his neck to look at the other man. Johnny is openly staring at his ass. His cock pulses with how Johnny is looking at him.

"Mmhmm," Johnny hums, spreading both of his cheeks apart. He feels like he's being presented, held open for display for no one but Johnny to see. His face starts burning, so he buries it into the pillow below him and it manages to muffle the squeak escaping his mouth as something hot and wet runs across his hole, setting his nerves alight. 

" _Johnny_."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?" Mark asks, but he feels like he already knows the answer to his question.

"Eating you out," Johnny explains, running his tongue across his entrance again.

"Oh god," he moans.

"Do you want me to stop?" Johnny asks.

"Not really," Mark admits, raising his hips slightly.

When Mark said Johnny could be his first for many things, getting his ass eaten definitely wasn't one of them. Johnny's breath is hot against hole, but his tongue is so much hotter. He licks a thick stripe from his perineum up to his hole, and Mark feels like he might actually pass out from that alone. It's not just the feeling of Johnny's mouth on him, but the thought itself is enough to send his thoughts spiraling down into nothingness.

"Good?"

"So good," Mark moans.

Johnny grips his cheeks tight, spreading them as far as possible and he's delving back in, tongue circling the rim with tight, tiny flicks along the muscle. He feels so filthy like this, Johnny's saliva is making him feel so wet, and there's enough that it's smearing along his perineum too. It only gets so much more intense when Johnny pushes his tongue into him. He can't help the broken sob leaving his mouth, and he can't stop the pleased noises either. As long as Johnny is tongue fucking him, he's nothing but a shaking mess.

"Johnny please, I can't." He's so worked up right now, his cock is heavily hanging between his legs, hard, weeping and neglected. He groans, "I need more."

"Just when I was starting to have fun," he tuts. He blows a puff of air and it tickles his dampened skin, making him shiver.

"You can eat me out all you want next time, I just want you to fuck me."

"Promise?" Johnny asks, hopeful.

"Yes, just get your fingers inside of me!"

"You're really demanding for someone who has never taken it up the ass before," he snarkily replies, coating his fingers with a generous amount of lube. He works his fingers together, warming up the liquid. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Fucking positive," Mark whines, pushing his ass up and spreading his legs wide, hoping it urges Johnny to give him what he wants. Johnny runs his slick fingers along his entrance, and Mark only feels so much wetter, feeling so much filthier than having just Johnny's mouth on him.

"Okay, you ready?" Johnny questions. Mark sends a glare over his shoulder, a frustrated groan rumbles in his chest.

"Yes," he hisses.

Mark, admittedly, has fingered himself before. He only used one finger, too afraid of using more than that. He had stopped trying after a few moments, mostly because he didn't really feel anything, but also out of shame. But Johnny's finger feels so much more than his own. It feels strange, a little jarring, and part of his brain is screaming no, the other part is just curious. That curiosity quickly subsides with every inch Johnny sinks into him until he's down to his knuckle.

"How you feelin'? Does it hurt?" he asks while shallowly fucking his finger in and out.

"I'm fine. I think I can handle another one." 

Johnny is meticulous with how he works Mark open. The second finger sinks in slowly, the stretch is gradual, the burn feels a little like background noise. It's there, but it's not unbearable. It helps that Johnny is running his free hand down his back soothingly as he gets used to the feeling. He doesn't quite acclimatize to it as well when Johnny starts moving his fingers, scissoring them with every thrust.

He crooks his fingers, and absolutely nothing prepares him for the sudden shock of pleasure that hits him. Mark sobs, his hips jerking backwards, almost collapsing onto the bed as his legs turn to jelly.

"There we go," Johnny muses, stroking the same spot inside of him.

"More, more," Mark pleads.

"Just wait a little bit more, baby. You're not quite stretched yet." He spreads his fingers, pulling them out, and pushing a third back in along with the other two. The stretch now is present, insistent, and somewhat of a reminder that Johnny is fucking him open with his fingers, getting him ready for his cock. His own cock is red and leaking, but he can't bring himself to touch himself, afraid he'll come before Johnny gets a chance to fuck him. 

Instead he grips at the sheets, as Johnny spreads him open, sparking every nerve inside of him.

"'m ready." Mark pushes back onto his hand trying to get a little more stimulation.

Johnny lets out a non-committal hum, making no intentions of letting up.

"Johnny, please, please, please fuck me."

It's the sudden emptiness that makes him whine, not the anticipation of finally getting what he's practically begging for. Johnny finally relents, coaxing a hand on Mark's hip to turn him around onto his back. Johnny's cock so hard and thick between his legs, Mark has forgotten how much bigger the other man is. It's already intimidating enough as it is, but to think of it anywhere near his ass is a little terrifying. Except he's so hard, and really wants this, so he braces himself by taking in a calm breath to chase away whatever nervousness is still in him.

Johnny gets the condom on, and slathers himself up with plenty of lube. He pushes Mark's legs to his chest, spreading them apart, practically bending Mark in half, and he feels entirely exposed under Johnny's attentive gaze.

"You ready?" Johnny asks.

"Yeah." He lets go a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, but it’s cut short by Johnny slowly pushing into him.

Halfway in, Mark feels like he's bursting at the seams, it undeniably hurts, so much more than Johnny's fingers had stretched him, and by the time Johnny is flush against him, his hips have started to ache. Overwhelmed is an understatement, he feels like he's being stretched to his limits, ones that he didn't even know he had.

"How are you feeling?" Johnny soothes his hands down his sides, it does nothing to quell what he's feeling physically, but it calms him mentally.

"Full," he pants, "you're really in there, huh. Is it supposed to feel like you're about to break me in half?"

"Do you want to stop?" Johnny looks concerned.

"No." He clenches down, the other man winces a bit, composure breaking. "I was just thinking, your dick really isn't beginner friendly."

"What would a beginner friendly dick look like?" Johnny asks, puzzled.

"I don't know!"

"Well, I'll take it as a compliment. Thanks for calling my dick big."

"That's not what I said."

"You were thinking about it." Mark was. "Tell me when."

Mark lets himself catch his breath first, the stretch feels a lot less worse, and maybe starting to feel a lot better when he allows himself to relax.

"When," he commands, but Johnny sets a torturously slow pace. It's for his benefit, because the slow drag of Johnny's cock eventually does start feeling pleasurable. The stretch is still there, but it feels good.

"More," he demands, trying to adjust his legs by pulling them even closer to his chest. Everything shifts with it. Johnny slams into him a little harder, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him dead on and he wails, " _Fuck_. Right— right there!"

He drops his head to the pillow, back arching, as Johnny fucks into him. It's so much, he's shaking and overwhelmed, his eyes go glassy, as he moans and cries, "More, please, please, _please_."

"God, look at you," Johnny groans, keeping his strokes shallow but fast and hard, "looking so pretty spread around my cock. My beautiful baby, you're so good for me."

His cock practically drools at the praise, throbbing hard and red against his stomach, begging for relief. He reaches down to stroke himself, but Johnny pins his hand above his head.

"No," he whines.

"I want you to feel everything." And he does feel everything, from the brutal pace Johnny sets, to his cock sweetly dragging against his walls, to the bruising grip Johnny has on his thighs, to the slap of Johnny's hips against his ass. His entire body is quivering.

Everything eventually becomes too much. Johnny finally wraps a hand around his length, barely getting two strokes in before he's coming hard, wrapped perfectly tight around Johnny's cock. His entire body shakes as he gasps and moans, "Oh, oh— _oh_."

He barely catches Johnny cursing, "Fuck, I barely touched you."

Then everything comes crashing down on him, reality hitting him once again. The next thing he knows, Johnny is pulling out, the emptiness is noticeable, and he's starting to feel a little sore. Johnny takes off the condom to stroke himself off.

"Wait, let me." Mark wraps his hand around his length, jerking him off until he's coming too, moaning what sounds a lot like Mark's name, and adding to the mess on Mark's stomach. Johnny collapses next to him, chest heaving, and Mark thinks he hears something about him being tired, he's not too sure, because he's lost in his own thoughts right now.

 _That_ really just happened. He really let Johnny fuck him, and surprisingly it's not the most baffling thing that's happened today, because he remembers everything from before. Their conversation, his stupid confession, asking Johnny out, and Johnny's equally as surprising confession. He doesn't know what he did in his past life to deserve any of this, but he must have been a saint.

He doesn't know how long they lay there together, but Johnny's breathing has finally evened out, and the come on him has just about dried. There's just so much of it. "I feel so fucking gross."

"Kinda what happens when two dicks are involved," Johnny says. "C'mon let's shower."

"'m sore," he groans, "is it too late to rescind my sexuality?"

"Yep. At least you're stuck with me." Johnny takes his hand, and even though he's just trying to pull Mark out of bed, the touch sends warmth through his body. Johnny snorts, "You enjoyed my dick too much, there's no way you're straight."

That's it, Mark thinks, he's not straight, but at least he knows he really likes Johnny.

**Author's Note:**

> [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/johnmarkten) | [main twitter](https://twitter.com/agustbwi) | [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/everbloom)
> 
> I hope this fic was palatable. Consider leaving a kudos and comment for the suffering this fic has caused me.


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